Misguided Wolves

7. Preparations for the Eclipse

Kate woke to morning light streaming through the infirmary window, easing the stiffness in her limbs with a stretch. A warm bath, infused with floral oils and scattered petals, awaited her, prepared by Logi’s maids. She sank into the soothing water, but guilt pricked her heart—her people in Fror fought daily while she indulged in such luxuries.

Sighing, she stepped out and dressed, mindful of the southern heat. Her northern wardrobe was ill-suited, so she chose an icy blue off-shoulder dress with long sleeves, its fabric hugging her curves before flaring at the hem. She adorned it with silver jewelry and pinned her curls back, letting the rest cascade down her back. The south’s climate tamed her hair, transforming its usual frizz into glossy, wild curls that caught the light.

Satisfied, she headed to the infirmary for a final checkup. Two weeks had passed since the ambush at the neutral lands’ border. For the first week, aconite poisoning had trapped her in a deep sleep, her memories blurred—only the echo of a child’s cries lingered. Logi’s healer, Astrid, had worked tirelessly to purge the poison, which she deemed no random act.

Astrid, a warm woman in her fifties with gray hair tucked under a nurse’s cap, greeted Kate with a smile. Her curvy frame was clad in a slate-gray dress and crisp white apron, her kindness reminiscent of Kate’s late grandmother. “Why, don’t you look breathtaking!” Astrid said, patting a bed. “No more bandages or hospital gowns. Come, let’s check your progress.”

Astrid deftly checked Kate’s vitals, then closed her eyes, chanting softly as her hands hovered over the arrow wound’s scar. After a moment, her eyes snapped open, a grin spreading. “Wondrous news! Not a trace of aconite remains!”

“I expected nothing less from a skilled witch,” Kate teased.

Astrid clapped, clasping Kate’s hands. “Just in time for the festival!”

“Festival?” Kate asked, curious.

Astrid’s eyes sparkled. “Logi’s eclipse festival, held when Fenrir reunites with the Moon Goddess. It’s said that meeting your mate during an eclipse brings a lifetime of luck.” She swooned like a lovestruck girl. “Have you met yours yet?”

Kate sighed, shaking her head. “No, and as a princess, I’ll likely marry for duty before I get the chance.”

“Nonsense!” Astrid chirped. “You might meet him at the eclipse.” Her smile widened. “We must get Jackson to commission a dress for you!”

As if summoned, Jackson strode in, his signature grin lighting the room. “All good news, I hope?”

Astrid laughed, rolling her eyes. “We have a task for you. Kate needs a dress for the festival.”

Jackson chuckled. “Already on it. My team’s designing the perfect gown, and they’ll style you on the day. Does that suit you, Miss Astrid?”

“Oh, this is thrilling!” Astrid clapped, then paused. “What about the other guests? We can’t have Kate dazzling alone.”

Jackson nodded. “Good point. We’ll ensure all guests are pampered with fitting attire. It’s a special day, and we want perfection.” He flashed Kate a warm smile.

“Guests?” Kate tilted her head. “Are others here for the festival?”

“You could say that,” Jackson replied cryptically.

****

Elliott nearly collided with Jackson in a castle hallway, the king’s grin wide but his eyes glinting with mischief. “What are you scheming?” Elliott asked, suspicious.

Jackson feigned innocence. “Scheming? Me? But I could use your help this afternoon.”

Elliott raised a brow. “I’m free. What’s the plan?”

Jackson spun him around, steering him toward an unexplored wing. “Trust the process—it’ll be worth it.”

They entered a chaotic room, unlike the castle’s sparse halls. Fabrics, needles, and threads spilled across tables, a stark contrast to Logi’s minimalism. A flamboyant man in colorful robes, Oliver, rushed forward, eyeing Elliott. “Is this my other subject?” He circled Elliott, assessing. “Not as lovely as the sweet miss, but with treatments and fitted clothes, we’ll make a masterpiece!”

Jackson patted Oliver’s back. “Perfect!” His eyes darted to a mannequin, and he made odd noises, signaling his assistants. They exchanged confused looks before one spun Elliott around, taking measurements, while another hid the mannequin behind a curtain. Oliver shook his head, exasperated.

Uninterested in fashion, Elliott missed the fuss. After endless measurements, Oliver’s team poked at his arms, face, and even teeth. Oliver sighed dramatically. “Such potential, yet you neglect yourself.”

Elliott flexed, grinning. “I’m toned enough.”

“Not your muscles, you oaf,” Oliver snapped, hand on hip. “Your skin, your glow! We’ll scrub you head to toe, soak you in oils. A brute can still shine.”

“Is this necessary?” Elliott groaned. “Why the fuss?”

Oliver’s eyes gleamed. “The eclipse festival demands your best. You never know who you’ll meet—perhaps your future Luna.”

“I doubt I’ll find a mate there,” Elliott said. “And I’m no king or alpha. I don’t need a Luna.”

Oliver chuckled, patting Elliott’s chest. “Many things happen during an eclipse.” He shooed him off. “Go. My ladies will pamper you.”

“I can bathe myself,” Elliott protested.

Oliver scoffed, eyeing him. “Clearly not. But if you’re shy, I’ll do it myself.”

“No, the ladies are fine,” Elliott said quickly.

****

Three maids soon knocked on Elliott’s door, bursting in with giggles. Bex, with dark skin, long hair, and sultry brown eyes, smirked. “Here to pamper you, Your Majesty.”

Elliott gulped. “Just Elliott, please. A regular bath’s fine.”

Bex’s gaze roamed him. “If not ‘Your Majesty,’ how about ‘Master’?” She bit her lip.

“Elliott’s fine,” he insisted.

Another maid, pale with short raven hair, swatted Bex. “Behave, Bex!”

Bex whined, “Can’t he have fun?”

Elliott cleared his throat, redirecting. “Let’s get started.”

The raven-haired maid smiled. “Please undress, and we’ll begin.”

Bex eagerly closed the distance, tugging off his shirt, her hands lingering on his toned chest. Her eyes darkened as she reached for his pants. “I can manage,” Elliott said, grabbing her hands.

Undeterred, Bex waved him off, unzipping his pants with a sly grin. She slid them down, then reached for his undergarments, guiding him to a chair. Her eyes widened greedily as she knelt, removing his boots.

“First, a hot bath with scented oils,” she purred, winking. “We’ll wash every inch.”

The maids led him to a steaming tub, scrubbing his shoulders and arms.

Exhausted, Elliott relaxed, eyes closing as he savored the rare luxury. A small hand grazed his manhood, startling him. Bex chuckled. “Standard practice.”

The raven-haired maid snapped, “Not like that.”

Bex ignored her, stroking him. Elliott stood, flushed. “That’s enough. Next step.”

A maid handed him a towel, barely concealing his arousal. Fenrir’s sake, let’s end this, he thought. Leo growled, “That woman’s trouble.”

“She’s just interested,” Elliott countered. “No harm done. I’m not saving myself.”

Leo snarled, “I want the apple-cinnamon scent, not this. Find her.”

Elliott sighed. “Fine, you killjoy.”

The maids scrubbed him with oils, their skilled hands easing his tension. He moaned, relaxed, unaware his towel had slipped. Bex, seizing the moment, knelt, rubbing oil into his legs, her hands creeping upward. Before he could react, she took him into her mouth, moving eagerly.

A growl rumbled from Elliott’s chest, Leo’s fury surging. His eyes flashed gold, and he yanked Bex away. “We’re done.”

Bex, stunned, sat on the floor. No man had rejected her. The other maids apologized, ushering her out. Elliott groaned, collapsing onto his bed, sleepless and frustrated, the apple-cinnamon scent haunting his dreams.